


Want Your Midnights

by oneoneandone



Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: F/F, One Shot Collection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:02:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 31
Words: 13,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27550465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oneoneandone/pseuds/oneoneandone
Summary: Short (less than 1000 words) stories of Tobin and Christen
Relationships: Tobin Heath/Christen Press
Comments: 47
Kudos: 166





	1. Daybreak, Open Your Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Ooh, you know I've been alone for quite a while  
>  haven't I? I thought I knew it all  
> Found love but I was wrong  
> More times than enough  
> But since you came along  
> I'm thinking baby  
> You are bringing out a different kind of me_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt**   
>  _how you wake your body up when it’s feeling tired, achy or needs a stretch_

Most mornings, Tobin wakes alone.

Even the nights she falls asleep with Christen tucked into her side, she wakes to an empty space, cooling sheets, the slightest hint of cinnamon and sage in the absence Christen left behind. She wakes with the sun, Christen does. Rises long and lithe, arms extended above her head, hem of her sleep shirt rising up just enough to reveal a tan stripe of sleep-warm skin before she slips into the slides left abandoned at the end of the bed the night before.

Christen wakes with the birds and the sun and the healing silence of the hour before the world even begins to stir, and Tobin is oblivious to it all, face down in her pillow, arms and legs akimbo across the bed.

She’s never been an early riser, never been the one to easily slip out of bed and greet the day. Her mother likes to tell the stories of her adolescence, half-awake and chasing after her exasperated sisters for a ride to school, cleats and backpack flailing behind her as they laughed and slowed down just enough to let her catch up.

Nothing much has changed. Still, she struggles to wake on the mornings when she needs to be somewhere by some time her body just refuses to recognize as an hour when normal people should be awake. Her teammates tease her for the series of alarms she always sets on her phone, the slow and sluggish way she rolls out of bed and into the closest, cleanest clothes she can find. More than a few had resorted to a splash of cold water as the clock ticked closer and closer to the point of no return, the point where no matter what Tobin did, she’d still be the last down to breakfast, the last to the early morning meeting, the last to the bus on its way to the airport for their flight.

But there are mornings—fewer than she’d like, true, but enough—that call for no alarms, no desperate roommate shaking her awake.

Mornings when Christen slips out of bed easily as the first rays of the sun slip in through the sheer curtains. Mornings when Christen rolls out her yoga mat on the balcony, or those mornings where the sun is preempted by the kind of rain that could only be beautiful in this city, this corner of the country, the world, in the room where their medals lay on a shelf, forgotten for the most part.

And those mornings, Tobin lets her body decide when to wake, when to finally stir from sleep. Lets the long, calm night soothe away her aches, her pains, the trouble at her brow, the years from her eyes. Lets the warmth of the sun tickle over her nose, the cool breeze off the river skitter over the skin the blanket has exposed.

There are the ones where Christen slips back into bed with her, hair wet from her morning shower, limbs warm and loose from her favorite poses. When Tobin breathes her in, lips finding Christen’s soft smile to kiss her hello, tasting coffee and love on her perfect girl’s mouth.

But her favorite—her most perfect mornings, are the ones when she can tell that Christen has just barely left. And Tobin grins to herself, and sits up, curling her toes into the thick, plush rug.

She doesn’t do yoga herself, but Christen, and the trainers, have taught her some simple stretches over the years. And so she does lift her arms up to the sky, arching her back, hearing the pop of vertebrae, feeling the pull and stretch of the muscles that every year, every season, every game, feel a little tighter, a little more fragile, before padding softly to where she knows Christen is sitting in meditative silence. Eyes closed, heart and mind open, letting the morning fill her with love and hope and promise.

And Tobin just watches, her own personal meditation, salutation to the woman she loves, feeling the night leave her, the day enter, energize her, ready her for whatever it may hold.

This, this is what awakes her body, her mind, her soul. This woman, this view, this moment.

This is what—who—she lives for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Fallin' All In You," Shawn Mendes


	2. When You Have No Grace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _But I will love you constantly  
>  There's precious little else to me  
> And though we cry, we must stay alive_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt**   
>  _preath in mexico - the grief catching up to Christen_

It comes at last, the grief. 

After the long months of masks, of pretending. Forcing herself to keep just on the wrong side of too busy, too busy to take note of the edges of the hole her mother left behind, ragged and collapsing. 

It comes at last. 

The hole too big to patch, to smooth over with a smile, it slips inside of her, makes itself a home within her lungs, her heart. 

Maybe it always has been there, Christen whispers in the night. Maybe she’s carried it with her all this time. 

She’d thought it like a suitcase, a baggage that she could check away when she didn’t have time for it, when she wasn’t ready for it, when she couldn’t carry the weight of it any longer. 

In the bright sun of the Mexican coast, she learns that grief is a shadow, a darkness that follows her every thought, grounds her to the earth, to life and all its grave inevitabilities. 

—–

It hadn’t happened in months, the forgetting. 

Not since the funeral, since she’d said her last goodbye. 

But it’s so peaceful here, the salty air and the sound of water as she slowly drifts off to sleep. It’s so peaceful and it reminds her of home. 

Of her mother. 

And Christen lays in their bed, held tight against Tobin’s body, breathing in the soft nothingness of the night. 

_Mom would like it here_. 

It flutters across her thoughts so carelessly, so innocently, that it takes her a breath, another, to realize that for a moment–for one perfect, beautiful moment–her mother was alive again for her. 

But the crash is steep, the remembering a long, heated arc of pain that cuts through her and brings hot, angry tears to her eyes. Old grief made new again, immediate. And she can no longer force it back inside of her, no longer fold it up and tuck it away until later, until she has the time to let it happen. 

Later is now. 

—–

“Hey,” Tobin whispers, waking from her light sleep as she feels the bed shake, the woman in her arms tremble against her body. “Baby,” she kisses Christen’s shoulder, “what’s going–” but Tobin stops when her partner turns, and she can see the look in the other woman’s eyes.   
  
“Oh, honey,” she pulls Christen closer, and presses soft, gentle kisses to her brow, to the mess of curls pulled back into a lazy braid for bed. She knows what this is. Not the details, not the particulars, but she knows the shape of the hole in Chris’s heart. 

And it doesn’t matter to Tobin, what brought out the tears, what caused the buried, delayed grief to bubble up to the surface tonight. Only that at long last, it’s come. 

Tobin’s been waiting for this, long aware that there would come a moment when pretending would no longer work. She understood, of course, the need for it. To be strong and brave, to show the world the face it wanted to see. 

But there would come a time when what the world wanted wasn’t enough. When the pain and the loss and the long months of moving forward would be too much. 

“It’s okay, baby,” Tobin whispers as her hands slip under Chris’s shirt to rub over her back, to let her touch be of some little comfort. “I’ve got you, just let it out.” 

—–

She cries for hours. Christen cries for her mother, for the ones left behind in loss, for the ones who will never have the chance know her love. She cries for the things she said and didn’t say, the empty place in every future memory she’ll ever make. 

Chris cries until she feels small and weak and empty. 

But safe. 

But loved. 

Tobin gets her a water and holds her again while her breathing calms, until her breath no longer hitches and her nose no longer runs. Strokes her back, her side, until Chris gives her a gentle nod.   
  
“Thank you,” she whispers, but Tobin shakes her head, kisses her softly. 

In the morning, they’ll sleep long past sunrise, and even when Tobin wakes and rises to make breakfast, Chris will stay in bed, slipping between dreams and memories. And maybe it’s a waste, to spend this perfect day of their too-short trip in bed, eating pancakes with their fingers as they share memories of the woman they’ve lost, the mother and the friend. 

But when the sun goes down Christen will take Tobin’s hands and kiss the tips of her fingers, telling her how much she loves her, how grateful she is to know that Tobin is by her side. Whispering the words until the other woman pulls her down, and quiets her mouth. 

And when they leave in the morning, back to their own lives, Chris will feel tired, but light. 

Peaceful. 

Free. 

And she’ll know, she hasn’t lost anyone. 

You can’t lose love. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Hot Gates," Mumford & Sons


	3. A Bird Taking Way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _There's magic in this memory  
>  Like the shadows that dance up on the silver screen  
> And years from now, when I look back  
> I'm still under your spell somehow_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt**   
>  _Preath - the beach vacay?_

They go from the glitter and gold of victory to the soft golden-hued rays of coastal sunsets and Christen, at last, can breathe again.

She wakes in the cool white sheets, feeling the last chill of the evening already burning away in the first faint fingers of the sun just beginning to stretch across the sky. Outside she can hear the morning waves lapping at the shore, surging over the glistening white sands and then pulling back, retreating, a never-ending cycle of push and pull.

Change and renewal.

Retreat and rebirth.

Somewhere she hears a gull, diving for his breakfast, and off in the far, far distance, the rumble of a car.

But in this room, in this warm, soft bed, there’s nothing. No sound but the whisper of their breath, the rustle of their limbs against crisp sheets, and when Christen shifts, when she turns onto her side, the gentle, sleepy hum of the woman she loves next to her.

Tobin is a jumble when she sleeps, long limbs spread out in all directions. This morning she’s on her belly against the mattress, head buried in the thick pillow, the sheets in a tangle around her bare legs.

Christen smiles to herself as she brushes an errant lock of hair from her lover’s face, watching that perfect nose scrunch up as the ends tickle against her skin. She’s sleeping like the dead, Tobin is, and Chris won’t wake her for anything. Not for the early morning waves or the sweet scent of Mexican coffee. Not even for the soft words and gentle declarations that are her favorite way to wake up the woman she loves.

Because Christen knows, is maybe the only one who does, how truly exhausted Tobin is right now, deep in the first real, satisfying sleep she’s had in days. Maybe even longer.

Tobin at this tournament had been a woman on fire. She’d played her heart out in every game, pushed her body to its very limit in every match, and then pushed further. They all had, of course, but there had been something almost like desperation in the way Tobin had taken the field, in the way she had played.

And never more so than when Chris herself was on the pitch.

It wasn’t until her goal that Christen had understood. Had realized what had been driving her girlfriend so hard.

“I want this cup for you,” Tobin had whispered into her skin that night as they’d lain together on one of the chairs by the hotel pool, letting the adrenaline of the day, of the match and the victory fade into the cooling air. “This past year–you’ve lost so much, Chris. I want us to win this for you.”

And Chris had kissed her then. In the dark, under the stars of the French summer night, whispering all the ways that she loved this woman, so grateful to be able to call Tobin hers.

They’d done it, of course. They’d won. They’d lifted the trophy again. Together, again. And the days after had been a whirlwind of celebrations and miles and joy. Every moment at each other’s side. Even the bittersweet moments where her mother should have been had hurt just a little less with Tobin there to hold her hand.

And now, at last, are the moments after. The quiet hours.

Their time is limited, of course. It always is. Another match to play, separate lives in separate cities. But these days, they’ll stretch them out, find the infinite hours within them. The soul-sanctifying sunlight, the heart-restoring possibilities of the night.

Christen smiles as she sees the tell-tale signs of Tobin waking. How she buries her head even deeper into the pillow, blocking out the light. How her breathing changes, the sad little groan in the back of her throat.

This is the woman she loves. This woman sleeping at her side. This woman who pushes her, fights for her, celebrates with her, grieves with her. This woman who loves her.

Her hand skims down Tobin’s skin.

Maybe she will interrupt these last moments of healing sleep, whisper the words into the gentle curve of Tobin’s ear, wake her and welcome her into the morning.

Celebrate this infinite love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Sweetest Thing," Allman Brown


	4. Hurts When You Hurt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _It's harder than I thought to tell the truth  
>  It's gonna leave you in pieces  
> All alone with your demons  
> And I know that we need this  
> But I've been too afraid to follow through_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt**   
>  _Preath! Based on the song ‘Hurt Somebody’ by Noah Kahan. Maybe something that fits into the timeline? 🤷🏻♀️ Please and thank you 😊_

They break-up once.

Not for long, mind you, but long enough for the cuts to scar and the scars to show.

Long enough that there’s a Hefty bag in Portland labelled “Chris” and a neat cardboard box in the garage in LA that just needs postage. Both are gone now, sweaters and shorts and shoes all put back where they belong, Chris’s shorts in Tobin’s drawers, a jumble of hats hanging from the hooks on the back of Christen’s door.

The scars remain, but as a reminder of what they’d almost lost, what they’d almost thrown away.

And some nights, when the rain is pounding hard against the glass doors, when the stars seem timid and fragile behind the swimming clouds, the ache hits a little deeper, thin whispers of the words they’d said seem to echo in the corners of their minds.

But not often. Not anymore.

—

It was a stupid fight. It began as a stupid fight, anyway. Turning the corner into an unexpected interview, the cameras right there and rolling.

Tobin hadn’t even thought about it, the way she’d let go of her girlfriend’s hand. Shoved it a little, pushed it away. It had been instinct, self-preservation in a world that still seemed so precarious, so delicate, when it came to protecting people like them. Three years in, and still they were a puzzle of carefully considered angles, experts in arranging the narrative like a photographer directs the light.

No one saw what they didn’t allow.

Except: no shadow is impervious to the light.

There were rumors. There were always rumors. More and more of late, and closer to the truth. And it had been a mistake, a split-second instinct–fight or flight.

And Tobin had lost.

Or fled.

In the end, it didn’t matter.

The damage had been done.

There were words and accusations. None that cut her deeper than Chris’s question of shame. None that had given her pause in quite the same way.

“No, no,” Tobin’d shaken her head, denied it with every honest breath inside of her, but it hadn’t been a half-truth.

She was ashamed.

Not of Christen, of course. Not of their relationship.

But herself.

Ashamed of the way she’d acted, ashamed of the fear that had risen up inside of her at the sight of the camera, the possibility that her only secret might be exposed. Ashamed of the way she still couldn’t quite pick up the phone to tell her parents about the love she’d found, couldn’t bring herself to take Christen home, to watch as the woman she loved fit herself so perfectly, so seamlessly into all of her most private of homes. The place where all her most precious of memories are set.

It had been a mistake, a misunderstanding. But it had cracked them a little.

A lot.

And every time after, when they had the opportunity to step a little more into the light–when they chose not to–the crack widened, the gulf deepened.

Until they broke.

—

Tobin wasn’t with Chris when she got the call.

They were in camp, but had spent most of their energy trying to pretend that they hadn’t broken each other’s hearts.

But when Kelley knocked–hard–on her door, face red and voice frantic with worry, Tobin didn’t hesitate.

What she found, when she slipped into the dim room where Christen was curled into the large Queen-sized bed, if her heart hadn’t already been broken–the sight of the woman she loved hurting so deeply would have done it for sure.

“Baby,” she whispered, kneeling down by the edge of the bed, “what’s wrong? Is your mom okay”

Kelley hadn’t known the specifics. Only that it had involved Chris’s mother.

And that it had sounded bad.

The midfielder shifted to sit, so she could delicately brush away the errant hairs from Christen’s eyes. “Tell me, honey,” her voice was soft, her fingers gently stroking the younger woman’s cheek.

It came haltingly, slowly, the news, as Chris fought the symptoms of her fear, her shock and sadness.

Her mother.

A stroke.

Coma.

Life-support.

And then it didn’t matter anymore. What had been said. What had happened.

It didn’t matter if people knew or thought they knew, if she was out or not.

What mattered was this.

Chris.

Tobin got into the bed with her and gathered the younger woman up into her arms, whispering softly. Telling her it was going to be okay, telling her how sorry she was, how loved she was, how everything–everything–from this moment forward was going to change.

And it was.

In the morning, they were on the first plane back to the States, Christen tucked into her side the whole long flight. And maybe no one saw the way her arm fell around Chris’s shoulder in the lounge, maybe no one saw the way she kissed her brow as they waited for their turn to board, or stowed her bag, or tucked the offered first-class blanket around the forward when the flight got underway.

But now, in the face of tragedy and fear and the inevitable loss, maybe someone did.

And the difference is–

Tobin doesn’t care.

There’s something far more important.

Someone.

Chris.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Hurt Somebody," Noah Kahan


	5. Add It All Up and Give It All Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _And all of the cities and places I've seen  
>  And all of the people and miles in between  
> I would trade  
> Only to be with you_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt**   
>  _Preath - after the final, the celebration, all the partying, what happens when there's finally some peace and quiet?_

They win and Christen stands still on the pitch, the aches and losses and years of dreams deferred falling away as she realizes that no matter the cost, she’s here.

She’s here.

She made it.

—

She wouldn’t be here without Tobin, Chris knows that. Knows that like she knows the shape of her own soul, like she knows the warmth of the other woman’s body against her own.

The losing–it had broken her, fractured her, scattered her to the winds.

But Tobin had put her back together. Had picked up all the little pieces of who she had been and slowly, steadily, fit them back into place, held her together with the strength of her love until Christen had been able to keep herself together on her own.

There were still gaps, and rough edges where sometimes the pieces hadn’t quite fit together any longer. Sometimes she still found slivers, little shrapnel memories, tucked into places she’d never expected to find them. The scent of her mother’s perfume in a crowd, an old grocery list for a bookmark in a textbook she’d finally decided she’d never need again, the little curly loops of her mother’s words.

And sometimes Chris could put the pieces back together on her own–an ache, but one that would heal. And sometimes the edges wouldn’t fit, and Tobin would hold her again, until she felt like she wouldn’t crumble again.

But she’d done it. She’d made it. They’d made it.

And she raises her hands to the sky again.

“All I am is because of you,” she whispers. “You and her.”

—

The hours between the match and the party are a blur. Photographs and interviews, hurried showers and lost moments of losing focus, sitting on the edge of the bed as the reality of what they’ve done sinks in again.

It doesn’t seem real, none of it seems real. Not the whistle blowing, not the cheers. The weight of the medal around her neck, the glittering confetti she’d found stuck to her thigh even after the shower.

But then there’s a knock at the door and Tobin’s voice asking if she’s ready yet and it sinks in yet again.

“Almost,” Christen calls back, and ducks into the bathroom, “but it’s unlocked.”

The older woman is sitting on the bed when she comes out, ready for the party, and Chris smiles at the simple tee-shirt and jeans. Quintessentially Tobin.

“Before we go,” she pulls Tobin up to stand before her, a soft grin at the way those gentle hands rest, warm, against her back, “I want to thank you.” And as she feels Tobin responding, she shakes her head. “No, don’t,” the words are a whisper against Tobin’s jaw before Chris’s eyes meet hers again. “This past year–it broke me.”

It didn’t hurt to admit it.

In a way, it was almost cleansing.

“It broke me,” Chris continued, a finger soft over Tobin’s mouth, “and I would have stayed broken–”

Her lips replace her finger and she kisses the woman she loves softly.

“–if I didn’t have you.”

She rests her forehead against Tobin’s.

“All I am,” Christen whispers, “is because of you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Only To Be With You," Judah & The Lion


	6. A Minute to Hold My Girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I've been dreaming 'bout us  
>  Working hard and saving it up  
> We'll go and see the man on the moon  
> My girl we've got nothing to lose_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt**   
>  _gaaahhh everything you write is just so *chefs kiss* more preath please (anything really)_

The whistle blows that third, final, time, and Christen just wants to fall to her knees on the field in disbelief or awe or something just as magical and momentous. But instead she lifts a hand to her racing heart and raises her eyes to the sky, a whispered prayer on her lips.

And then it hits her, the reality of what they’ve done. Of what so many had said they couldn’t do.

She goes from teammate to teammate, coach to coach. Hugging them and crying happy, sweaty tears into their hair, as she lets the joy and relief move through her in equal measure. The endorphins take over for the adrenaline now. Fueling her exhausted body, her weary mind. And she remembers from the last time–this is what will sustain them through the next few days. This warm, slow energy, and how different it is from what they’ve lived on for the past days and weeks and months. Longer, even. Maybe since the breaking of their hearts. Maybe since the very last time they were here, ecstatic with joy and not yet aware of the falls that always followed such a great height.

At last, she feels Tobin’s arms around her, and the butterflies in her belly shiver at the warm, soft hug as the world seems to slow around them, a pocket of time just their own.

“We did it,” she whispers, the soft scent of the other woman’s skin filling her senses, igniting all the things she hides away, buries deep, when she puts on the jersey.

And Tobin just hugs her closer, as if she doesn’t have the words, doesn’t trust she can find the right ones. But Christen knows, knows everything she’s trying to say.

The woman she loves speaks in touch, in soft smiles and deep, wanting looks. And Chris can read every word. This is the beginning of everything for them, and she knows that the woman she loves feels the same.

It’s in the way Tobin’s fingers curl gently into her jersey, how their heads fit so perfectly in the curve of each other’s neck. She feels the future of their dreams in the drape of Tobin’s arms over her shoulders, the safety of the home they’ve built within each other’s hearts in the long press of Tobin’s body against her own.

And it’s over too soon, always, but as they pull apart Chris can feel the warmth of her love settle into her skin, into her bones. It burrows along her ribs and steals into her heart, filling her with the belief–the faith–that this is exactly the person she is meant to be, this is exactly the kind of life–of love–she was created for.

“I love you,” Christen whispers, their fingers tangling for the briefest of moments, and Tobin nods, already being pulled away.

“After?” she calls, and Chris gives the woman she loves a smile to carry with her until then.

There will be time.

They only have forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Hold My Girl," George Ezra


	7. There's Enough of Us in This World to Change It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _And sometimes we forget it  
>  It's a big crazy planet  
> There's a light in the spaces between  
> We get lost in the bubble  
> On the coast it's no trouble  
> Who you love and who you wanna be_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt**   
>  _please please PLEASE do preath celebrating after winning the wwc 2019_

It isn’t until late–when the lights are low, when the only sound is that of Christen breathing against her shoulder–that Tobin lets herself think about the opportunities she’s denied herself.

Of lost chances and the words left unsaid.

Chris knows how she feels. Chris knows her heart.

Of that, Tobin is certain. Their love isn’t quiet only for her benefit. It suits them both well enough.

But then there are moments–

“Best friend,” Chris’s father had said tactfully, and she hadn’t expected the way those words would cut through her, hadn’t anticipated the depth and the ache of that particular wound. How little those two words sounded in comparison to what she felt with her whole heart, how small and utterly futile.

Tobin feels the other woman exhale, and the little hairs on her skin stand up at the wondrous grace of such simple, wholesome love.

Best friend.

She thinks of the flight home, how they’d known already that the end was nigh. She thinks of the way Christen had gripped her hand so tight in the cab on the way to the hospital, remembers the way the strongest woman she’d ever known sank into her as the situation was explained. She can still feel it, branded forever into her skin–Christen against her, holding on as her sister explained the decision that had been made, the decision to let go.

Now, their medals hanging off the lamp at the side of the bed, catching the light of the cars below in a city that never sleeps, Tobin shifts just the slightest, just enough to pull Christen closer to her, skin to skin and heart to heart. She presses a soft kiss to that dark, wild hair and holds her breath just a moment as she feels the younger woman nuzzle closer into her skin.

They’ve already been granted so many miracles, so many moments of grandeur and grace. Tobin doesn’t know if she deserves another, if she deserves another breathless moment of before and after, of defining the trajectory of her life to come. But she prays there, tucked away in that bed with the love of her life. Prays for just one more.

Just one more chance. One more opportunity.

One more chance to kiss the woman she loves on the field of their dreams.

This time, Tobin swears, she’ll take it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Oh Love," Parson James, Wrabel, and VINCENT


	8. Two Kids with their Hearts on Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Think about what you believe in now  
>  Am I someone you cannot live without?  
> 'Cause I know I don't wanna live without you_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt**   
>  _christen and tobin celebrate world cup win_

Their teammates celebrate big, celebrate grandly, but that’s never been their style.

Overwhelming gestures, wild proclamations, posing for pictures they’ll share wide across their oceans of fans. Videos of dancing barefoot in a champagne-soaked locker-room, medals bouncing against their chests.

But not Christen.

Not Tobin.

They’ve never been the loud ones, never been the ones out front in the limelight.

And this moment—this earth-shattering, beyond-belief second in time, as the realization sinks in that they’ve done it, done it again—is no different.

Ashlyn and Ali hold each other on the field, and their embrace is no longer the careful, tentative one of four years earlier, afraid of the consequences of being free.

Kelley scans the crowd until she finds a familiar, much loved face, and pulls herself up for a kiss that will rocket her small, private world into the wide, wide open.

But Chris and Tobin nudge each other softly on the field, smiled shyly at each other amid the din of the crowd and the lights of the stadium.

The confetti falls around them and it’s like the most cleansing of rains, washing away all the past year’s many heavy burdens. And for a moment, they’re alone, just the sparkle of blue and gold showering down on the from the heavens.

They’re not loud, Tobin and Christen. They’re a gentle kind of quiet, steadying and secure. The kind that stands in the rain—just to feel the way it caresses their faces as it falls. And tonight they stand in the middle of a field in France and listen to the silence of each other’s soft, welcoming presence.

And it’s enough.

It’s everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Call You Mine," The Chainsmokers


	9. A Smile Just for You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _She takes you by the hand  
>  She takes you by the arm  
> You take her at her word  
> Tomorrow’s never planned  
> Cause she likes you and only you_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt**   
>  _Preath: right after today’s final match ended, they find each other._

The whistle blows, the third and final sound almost drowned by the excitement of the crowd, and the match is over, the tournament, the long and exhausting drive of the last two and a half years plus.   
  
Christen’s hands shake as she brings them up to her face, holding them close to make sure everything feels real, making sure this isn’t some kind of cruel trick played by her mind on herself.   
  
Her fingers explore her face–cheeks, brows, chin, and there, the feel of her breath against her palm.  
  
Real. 

It’s real. The match, the tournament, the months of training and friendlies and turning their lives upside and down again for a chance to take the trophy home again. 

And they’d done it. They’ve done it. 

They’ve done it.   
  
Chris looks around, the field full of players and staff, personnel official gear and teammates draped in American flags dropped down to them by their families, their lovers in the stands. 

And she looks, and looks, until–

There. 

There she is. 

Not in the stands but on the field. 

Her partner, the woman she loves. 

And there’s a smile across Tobin’s face that Chris has only seen in the most private of moments of their relationship so far. So wide and so free that it makes her heart practically beat right out of the wall of her chest at the sight of it there, out in the open. For everyone to see, but just, just, just for her. 

Private even in the middle of all this. 

Speaking in words and looks only she will understand, and Chris knows that this isn’t the end of one chapter but just the beginning of the next, the better one. 

“Hey,” she moves closer, just close enough for Tobin to hear her soft greeting, and smiles back. 

This–she’s ready for. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "She Only Smiles for You," Bubblegum Lemonade


	10. There Will Always Be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _There will always be  
>  The light and the sea  
> Rolling sea ... the light and me_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt**   
>  _Preath. do you believe in soulmates?_

She asks you one night, laying next to each other on your mattress in the middle of your unfurnished bedroom. 

She asks you if you believe in soulmates. 

And you know the answer you’re supposed to give. The answer you’re sure she’s looking for. 

But you’ve always believed that honesty matters more. More than easy, more than simple. Honesty and faith, these are the principles that have gotten you here. Here with her warmth against you in the dark of night, the scent of her hair, still wet from your shower, tickling at your senses. 

So for a moment, for a breath and a sigh, you don’t answer.

You’ve always believed in angels. In God and the Son, the Spirit and the Dove. Choirs and clouds. You spent your childhood on your knees, praying to be loved, praying to be whole. Praying to the angels to keep you safe, to guard your heart, to make you strong and sturdy in the face of doubt and fear, anger and loss. 

“Make me an instrument, Lord,” you whispered into your folded hands, “make me worthy of your love.” 

And if you didn’t hear an answer, if you didn’t see a sign, well, you had faith. 

It would come. 

It would come. 

The woman you love asks if you believe in soulmates, and you close your eyes, breathing in her scent, soaking in the calm of her heart beating against your chest. 

There were years of silence. Of prayers unanswered. Years of anger and fear and the loss of hope. Despair, faith tested, bending almost to the point of breaking. 

And it took years to hear the answers in the silence. To find the love in faith you’d almost stopped looking for. It took years for you to understand the message in the words, so clear and simple and so very hard to understand. 

A leap of faith, the truth hidden in plain view. 

Maybe you still believe in angels. Maybe you still believe in all the power and the might. Maybe you finally learned that the only test of faith was love. To love your neighbor as your self, to love yourself. 

To love your self. 

You run your fingers down her side, feeling the rise and fall of her chest against your own. 

"When I was a child,” you whisper, “I asked God for an answer.” And you look into the infinity of her eyes, as close to holy as you’ve ever been.

“He brought me to you.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "The Light and the Sea," Dar Williams


	11. Just Desserts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pregnancy cravings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt**   
>  _“And I thought your pregnancy cravings couldn’t get any weirder.”_

Tobin laughed as she came into the kitchen and watched her wife put the finishing touches on a sandwich. “And here I thought your pregnancy cravings couldn’t get any weirder,” she said with a smile as she wrapped Christen up from behind, her long limbs still just enough to surround the younger woman’s swollen, rounded belly.

Chris grinned, putting down the jar of olives as she turned in Tobin’s embrace. “This is barely even weird,” she grinned, kissing that chiseled jaw. “Peanut butter for a little protein, mustard for a little tang, olives for that perfect salty finish … delicious.”

Tobin tilted her head just enough to press the softest of kisses to her wife’s forehead. “And the Readi Whip?” she whispered.

“Oh, that?” Christen giggled, turning to reach for the can behind her, “that’s just dessert.” And she sprayed just the tiniest little poof of it to the very tip of Tobin’s nose before leaning in close to lick it off.

“See?”


	12. When You're Ready

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "When you decide to ask? Then answer is yes."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt**   
>  _I found the ring_

“I found the ring,” Christen says softly one evening, watching the muscles of Tobin’s arms move as her girlfriend washes the dishes from dinner. And she sees—immediately—the way Tobin’s whole body goes tense, still.

“I wasn’t looking for it,” the younger woman continues, the two of them standstill in their kitchen as Christen spills the secret she’s been keeping for weeks now, the tension finally too much to bear alone any longer.

“I wasn’t looking,” she repeats herself, because she needs the other woman to know this, to believe it. “I was putting away laundry, and it was just there, with your socks.”

Chris blushes, remembing all the emotions that had passed through her in that moment, fear and excitement and anticipation, to name a few. “But looking, opening it, that was on purpose. I shouldn’t have, I know, and I’m so sorry.”

Tobin stands still, still not turning toward her, still not turning to look.

“And ever since I’ve been wondering, waiting for you to ask. I’ve thought you were about to do it a thousand times over, a thousand little moments over the past few weeks. But you never did. And I started to get afraid that you never would.”

Christen takes a step closer, still not letting herself do what she wants to the most—reach out, touch the woman she loves. “And then I realized, maybe you’re afraid too. Afraid of what I’ll say.”

She sees the muscles move under Tobin’s skin, and knows without seeing that her girlfriend is holding on to the counter like it’s a life-jacket and she’s caught up in a tidal wave.

“So I thought I’d tell you,” Christen finally, finally, lets her fingers gently stroke down the center of Tobin’s spine, “when you’re ready? When you decide to ask? The answer is yes.”


	13. Future Lines

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt**   
>  _“Do you think our kids will be that cute?”_

“Do you think our kids will be that cute?” Tobin asked later that night as they lay in their bed, the darkness broken only by the occasional headlight of a car passing through their generally quiet avenue. She’s pressed up tight behind her girlfriend, holding Christen close, a hand over the younger woman’s belly—thinking, dreaming, of the future to come.

Chris chuckles sleepily, bringing her own hand to cover her girlfriend’s, her thumb rubbing slow circles over the back of Tobin’s hand. “Charlie was pretty cute, wasn’t she,” her voice was barely a whisper in the quiet room.

Tobin nodded against her neck, breathing in her scent—citrusy, a hint of spice. But she hadn’t answered the question, and Tobin needed—she _needed_ —an answer. An answer to the question she wasn’t asking, the question behind it all.

“Chris,” she whispered, just on the edge of a whine.

Christen shifted, rolled over to face the older woman, but still reached for her hand, brought it back to where it had been, resting over her belly.

“Cuter,” she kissed down Tobin’s jaw gently, “because Servando’s got nothing on you.”


	14. A Place for Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They'll make space together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt**   
>  _“I think people would be surprised to whose stuff actually takes up more space in our closet.”_

“Tobin,” she heard her girlfriend calling from the bedroom, “I thought you promised to weed out your closet to make room for my things?”

In the kitchen, Tobin grimaced. She had promised that. Had promised to do it before Christen’s next visit, in fact. The visit which was happening this very second. She ran a hand through her hand and tried to look apologetic as she walked back to the bedroom.

“Um,” Tobin stuck her hands deep in her pockets, “the thing is ….” But she couldn’t think of a reasonable excuse, especially not with Chris sitting there in just a holey robin’s egg blue T-shirt and white cotton panties, looking frustrated as she stared at the floor of the closet that was completely overrun by shoes.

Christen just sighed, standing up. Tobin had forgot, and really, she wasn’t even surprised. “Okay, here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to make a list of some things that would help make your place feel more like home for me, make me feel like I belong, okay? And if you’re okay with them, we’ll work on some while I’m here, and finish whatever is left when I come back for the off-season.”

She pressed her forehead to Tobin’s, “And number one on the list is going to be making space for me in your closet, yeah?”

The taller woman nodded, honestly sorry that she had forgotten. “I just—I don’t know what to get rid of, you know? Like what if you want to go to a fancy place for dinner, but I got rid of the only pair of nice heeled boots I have?”

And Christen’s last reserve softened. “How about we look together and make sure we keep plenty of options, and the stuff that neither of us wear often, we put in the guest room closet? Like our ‘just in case’ closet?”

Tobin kissed her jaw softly, hugging her close. “That works,” she whispered, so grateful that this woman understood her, her needs.

“You know,” Chris whispered against her lips, “no one would ever believe us if we told them your stuff takes up the most space.” She grinned wickedly, amused. And Tobin smiled.

“Yeah, well, none of them would believe I could land someone so out of my league either,” she whispered fondly, “and yet, here you are.”


	15. O, Christmas Tree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're welcome.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt**   
>  _you’re welcome 😆_

“You realize—“ Tobin says, but decides not to finish the thought. She knows the look that Christen is giving her, a look that means the decision has already been made. She’s seen it more than a few times. And the times she didn’t listen, didn’t agree, well, Tobin has learned that when Christen knows what she wants, when Tobin gives her what she wants, it works out best for all if she just goes along with whatever it is, no questions asked.

Right,” she nods, “so we’re doing this. How do—I mean, do I have to change?” Tobin looks down at the amusing holiday sweatshirt she’s wearing, a gag gift from Jackie that she absolutely loves. But, Christen has an … eye for aesthetics, and the midfielder knows the shirt, fucking hilarious as it is, probably won’t fit into her vision. Except—

Except Chris just grins. “Not if you don’t want to,” she tells Tobin, looking up and down her girlfriend’s form so slowly, with such a deliberate intent, that the older woman shivers. Not from the cold, mind you, but from the heat of Christen’s gaze. And if it’s a trap of some kind, Tobin is pretty fucking sure it’s the kind of trap that she’s going to enjoy falling into.

And enjoy climbing out of even more.

“Okay,” the older woman shrugs, “I’m ready then. Whenever you are.”


	16. Hold Me Every Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a slow morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt**   
>  _sleepy C_

It was late, far later than their usual waking. The sun, that English winter sun that always seemed just a little bit distant, a little cool, was high in the sky, already slowly waning. But even if the air was chill outside, and even if their usual allotment of daylight was already running out, Tobin woke feeling warm, and cozy, and loved. “Hey,” she nuzzled her nose into the divot of her wife’s collarbone, “you awake?”

But there was no response. At least, no coherent response. Just an adorable little groan, and a shift in the blankets as Christen pulled them closer, wrapped them tighter around her body. And Tobin couldn’t help herself, she laughed softly before occupying herself by pressing soft kisses to the warm, dark skin beneath her mouth.

The midfielder shifted, her fingers trailing down Christen’s bare, exposed arm, the very one diligently clutching the blankets so tightly, and followed down the line of firm muscle to the fist clenched at her breast, tickling gently under the soft swell before slipping her hand under the comforter. Tobin heard the intake of breath, the soft hiss, as her colder palm covered the firm breasts she found under that thick blanket, and she smiled to herself, lips moving over the line of Christen’s neck. “Oh,” she whispered, her voice full of love, “playing hard to get this morning, are we, Chris?”

For one heart-beat, a single moment, this perfect heavy silence hung between them, Tobin’s bait just waiting for a bite. And Christen bit.

The younger woman shifted, rolling onto her back to look up at the woman she loved. “Please,” Christen snorted softly, “like I’m ever hard to get.” And Tobin smiled, lowering her mouth to kiss her wife, laughing as their lips met.

“But,” the forward continued, her voice low as her fingers came up to comb through Tobin’s hair, “you did kind of wear me out last night.” Christen smiled up at her wife with warm, loving eyes. “Maybe we could go back to sleep for a little bit, pick up where we left off last night when we wake up again?”

And Tobin pressed tiny kisses over her brow, her cheeks, her jaw, eyes smiling down at the younger woman. “Tell you what,” she pressed her front to Christen’s side, resting her head on her hand as she looked down at her wife, her other arm resting over the other woman’s belly, “you go back to sleep. I’ll hold you, keep all the bed bugs and the closet monsters away.”

Green eyes sparkled up at her, and Christen nodded. “Perfect,” she whispered, lifting her head to kiss Tobin one last time before breathing deeply and closing her eyes again, turning her head to rest against her wife’s chest. “Love you, Toby,” Christen breathed out softly.

She was halfway out before Tobin could even form the words in return.


	17. What They Don't Know

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt**   
>  _“it’s so funny how they assumed you wear the pants in our relationship.”_

“It’s so funny how everyone assumes you wear the pants in our relationship,” Tobin grins as she looks down at the woman curled into her side on the couch. “Like, across the board, they all look at us and think I’m the submissive one.”

“You like that they think that,” Christen smiles, kissing the side of Tobin’s breast where her tank top has shifted, exposing just the right amount of skin. “You play into it with your hard chill and your laid back attitude.” Her fingers curl around the hem of Tobin’s shirt.

And Tobin grins, nodding. “What they don’t know doesn’t hurt them,” she agrees. “And they only really know parts of us. Who we are on the field, and who we are at camp really. I mean, your sisters would never say that you wear the pants,” she kissed the top of Christen’s head. “You’re too much the middle child, too much the peacemaker.”

Christen laughs because it’s true. “And you, you’re the youngest girl. So used to getting everything you want, you stopped bothering to ask a long, long time ago.” She grins, looking up at the woman she loves. “You know I don’t care what they say, or who they think is the top in our relationship, right? I just love us, who we are with each other.”

“I love us too,” Tobin leans down to kiss her. “I love you.”


	18. Wherever You Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Remember when you asked me about faith?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt**   
>  _the hour it takes them to get a rapid COVID test and confirm C didn't have it_

“You shouldn’t have come with me,” Christen said. Her voice was almost gone, which only increased the grumpy, cranky, vibe she was giving off from there on the examination bed in the curtained-off room.

Tobin gently pressed her hand over her girlfriend’s sternum, pushing her back to lay on the bed. “We talked about this,” she said, and there was only worry, only fatigue, in her voice. And love, of course. Always love. “Remember?” she asked, pulling up the thin green knit blanket that had been offered by one of the nurses that had taken Christen’s vitals, the one her fiancé kept shoving off in a fever-induced sweat. “You and I have literally been together pretty much every minute for the last four months. If you were exposed, I was too.”

Chris bit her lip, worried. “Not true,” she whispered, mouth in a pout. “We had separate rooms at camp.”

And Tobin nodded her head, she was right. There were moments—an afternoon shopping, a meeting with a sponsor, this or that or some other thing—there were opportunities for one of them to have been exposed, and not the other. Still, the chances of one of them having it, and not both of them, were slim.

“Baby,” Tobin bent her head to kiss the hot skin of Christen’s forehead, “remember when you asked me about faith? And I told you about Ruth? About Naomi?” Her fingers smoothed over the worried lines of her girlfriend’s brow. “Do not urge me to leave you, or turn back from following you,” she whispered as she stroked down Christen’s arm, over her side, the words soft and gentle, as soothing as a lullaby. “For wherever you go, I will go, and wherever you stay, I will stay. Your people shall be my people and your God my God.”

And Christen closed her eyes, turning into Tobin and burying her face in the familiar scent of her other half, in the soft hoodie Tobin wore. “I’m scared,” she admitted, but Tobin just kissed her hair.

“Whatever happens,” she promised, holding her love close, “I’m with you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Of all my most recent itsy bitsy pieces, this just might be my favorite.)


	19. I Hold On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A proposal fic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt**   
>  _I hold on by Dierks Bentley, Tobin pov_

She’s not nervous, she’s not.

( _She is. She’s more nervous about this than anything else she’s ever done in her life_.)

Tobin stands, waiting in the living room of their apartment shifting back and forth from one bare foot to the other, while she waits for Christen to finish getting ready for their dinner out. There’s a box burning a hole in the pocket of her fine trousers, a box covered in a soft black velvet that she can’t stop running her fingers over. Inside, a ring. A perfect circle of gold, with diamonds that seem to catch the light and multiply it out into the world.

The very way Tobin feels Chris’s love multiplies inside of her, catching her rough facets, inspiring her to be stronger, kinder, better every day. This ring, it’s a symbol. Just a symbol. A sign of the love she feels, the love that surrounds her, consumes her.

She’s going to do it tonight, Tobin knows.

( _She’s said that before, just a thousand times or so. Every time she sees the woman she loves._ )

But tonight, tonight she knows …

She’s going to pull the ring out from her pocket, and give it to the woman she loves. She has words planned, this grand summary of their love, from start to now to what she hopes will be forever. She’s going to hold it out, watch the way it catches the bright love in Christen’s eyes, and ask the question that’s been on the tip of her tongue for months now. For years, maybe.

( _Since the very first moment she saw her._ )

The box is in her hand, her heart is in her chest, and she hears the tell-tale sound of heels at the top of the stairs.

“Babe,” Christen calls out, “I’m ready.”


	20. Drive My Car

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt**   
>  _“oh please, christen hasn’t driven herself anywhere since 2015.”_

“Oh, please, Christen hasn’t driven herself anywhere since 2015,” Kelley rolls her eyes as they look through the pictures BMW has sent them, the options available for the two-time World Cup winners to choose from in recognition of their exceptional accomplishment. “I don’t know why she’s even thinking thinking about taking them up on their offer.” And the group of women, all friends, almost family, laughs as the target of their amusement blushes.

Christen looks over to her girlfriend, who’s eyeing up one of the sportier options, something low and sleek that the forward things would look far more at home on a race-track than a city street. But Tobin just smirks to herself, clearly not disagreeing. And Christen knows that she’s going to have to stand up for herself this time, with all these women that she loves and respects chuckling at her.

“Well,” Christen says, the picture of innocence, “that’s not entirely true.” And she casts a mischievous look over at her girlfriend, whose smirk disappears immediately as she opens her mouth to intervene. “There was that time when someone had surgery,” Chris says nonchalantly, holding out her hand to examine the finish on her nails, “and I spent eight weeks driving her everywhere around Portland.” She stands, taking the book of photos from Tobin’s hand, giving her teammates a wicked wink.

“And then there’s the bedroom.”


	21. Impossible

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ring changes everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt**   
>  _you're impossible baby_

Everyone had told them. Ali and Ashlyn. Megan and Sue. Hell, even Alex and Syd had thrown their opinion into the mix. But Tobin honestly hadn’t believed them. How could a ring and a piece of paper change so much?

Except—those fuckers had been right. And she couldn’t even be mad about it, that was the worst part. They’d been right.

Married sex—it was so much better.

So, so, so much better.

Tobin looked up at the ceiling of their fancy hotel room, chuckling even as she struggled to catch her breath, her girl—her wife!—laying next to her, shaking the whole damn bed with her laughter. “Seriously,” she rolled onto her side, “like no shade on our sex life before today, but baby, it’s like we discovered a whole new dimension. Like a secret married sex dimension.”

Christen just snorted, letting her hand rest over her wife’s firm abs, feeling the sweat drying there on her still-flushed skin. “You,” she rolled onto her side to look at Tobin, to memorize every angle of her wife’s features in this moment, on this day, “are ridiculous, you know that, right?”

And Tobin laughed, leaning over to steal a kiss before she sat up and reached for her phone. “Hold on,” she teased as she slipped out of the king-size bed to stand, naked and glorious and so, so beautiful, while Christen just shook her head in disbelief, “I have to tell them they were right.”

She dodged the pillow her wife threw after her, but she caught the words, floating after her on a laugh. “Did I say ridiculous? I meant impossible.” And Tobin just smiled to herself. They’d been right, her friends, everything was better with the rings.


	22. The Happiest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's all gonna be worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt**   
>  _C &t ... how long have you known_

“How long have you known?” Christen asks, feeling lighter than air, feeling like pure and unadulterated sunlight. She kneels on the bed before her wife, rocking back on her heels, unable to keep still in the face of such excitement. In the presence of all her dreams coming true.

And Tobin looks at the woman she loves, sees the joy there, the wonder and the amazement. All the things she’s feeling herself.

This isn’t how they were supposed to get to this place, this isn’t the path they were supposed to take. And yet—

And yet for all the tears, for all the losses and the sacrifices and the heartbreaks, they’ve made it. They’ve made it to this place. And suddenly it doesn’t matter, the pit-stops, the wrong turns, the detours. Suddenly it doesn’t matter, what she gave up to bring them here, to this moment.

Because what she’s getting in return?

It’s so, so worth it.

“How long?” Christen asks, her voice just a whisper, but so full of everything Tobin loves in her. Kindness and patience, softness and understanding. “Toby?”

And Tobin takes her hands, the hands holding the little strip of plastic she’d left on the bathroom counter that morning for her wife to find, and smiles. “Known?” she lifts her hand to cup Christen’s jaw, “about two hours. I was waiting for you to wake up and find it.”

She leans in, kissing her wife softly. “But I’ve suspected for a few days. My breasts, my stomach—I just didn’t want to get your hopes up, not before the fourteen day mark like the doct—” But Tobin doesn’t get a chance to finish, her wife covering her mouth with her own, kissing her deeply.

“Toby,” Christen presses their foreheads together, eyes closed, almost in prayer, “thank you. Thank you.”

She feels the wetness, the hot tears that slip from her wife’s eyes, and Tobin smiles, kissing her wife again. “Baby, those better be happy tears,” she whispers, voice cracking as her own begin to fall.

But Christen just laughs, this joyful, loving sound, full of dreams come true. “The happiest.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Nope, THIS is my favorite.)


	23. It’s Okay (Because I Love You)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ankle surgery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt**   
>  _Can you do a cute fluffy one where Tobin is drunk?_

“Chris, Chris, Chris,” Tobin called in a sing-song voice, grinning widely as she held out her arms. “You came?”

And Christen smiled, holding up the balloons she’d picked up in the gift shop on her way to Tobin’s floor. “I did,” she laughed, and gave Mrs Heath a warm hug before moving to stand beside the bed. She was careful not to jostle the older woman’s leg when she leaned down to press a chaste kiss over Tobin’s brow. They’re out to Tobin’s family, but it was still new, and neither of them wanted to overwhelm the Heaths with too much PDA. “I told you I’d come,” she said softly, brushing back some hair that had escaped from Tobin’s braid.

Mrs. Preath rested a hand on her back, excusing herself to go and get them all some coffee, though Christen was almost certain it was a convenient excuse to give them some alone time. And she mouthed her thanks to Tobin’s mother with a grateful smile.

“Hey baby,” she leaned in again, kissing her girlfriend softly, “how’s the pain?”

But Tobin just laughed. “You’re pretty,” she grinned, nuzzling into Christen’s warm embrace. “You have the prettiest eyes, did you know that?” The words came out in a jumble, not unlike the mornings when they linger in bed, Tobin always more reluctant to open her eyes and acknowledge the daylight than the younger woman.

“I’ve been told,” Christen smiled, reaching for a blanket that Mrs Heath must have brought from home and spreading it over the bed, “mostly by you.”

Tobin was adorable like this, just a little drunk on the heavy-duty painkillers she’d been administered after her surgery. And Chris wanted to drink up every moment of it. How soft and sweet she was, how absolutely precious.

“Yeah,” the other woman answered with a sheepish grin, “but it’s okay ‘cuz I love you.” And Christen’s heart skipped a beat. It wasn’t like she didn’t know, it wasn’t like this was a surprise. But hearing it, even like this, it filled her with such a lightness, such a fullness, such a warmth.

Still, Christen knew that Tobin would be disappointed in herself, saying it like this, now. So she didn’t point it out, what her girlfriend has said. She didn’t say it back. She just pressed her lips to Tobin’s brow with a soft, secret smile. “You’re right,” she whispered, “it’s totally okay.”

And she stayed there, palm pressed to Tobin’s jaw, full of love for this woman, and watched as her eyes slowly drooped and closed. “Tell me again when you’re feeling better, yeah?” Christen leaned forward to kiss her cheek, whispering the words before she sat back, hearing the soft * _snick_ * of the door behind her, Mrs. Heath returning with steaming drinks in hand.

“Everything okay?” Tobin’s mother asked, coming back to sit as she handed Christen a drink. “You know, the whole time I’ve been here she’s been talking about you. ‘Christen this,’ and ‘Chris that.’” She looked at her daughter’s friend with an amused, knowing smile. “She’s pretty smitten.”

“So am I,” Christen met her eyes, smiling as she took a sip of the hot coffee, “so am I.”


	24. Making Changes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Negotiation 101 with Tobin Heath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt**   
>  _Surprise!!_

It’s been six weeks since she’s seen Christen. Six long, boring, honestly just plain dull weeks. And honestly? Tobin is done with it, the distance. The whole ships passing in the night thing. Christen on the east coast when she’s on the west. Her team away in Chicago when Chris’s plays in Seattle. She’s done with it.

Tobin tells her agent this, and he laughs at her. Tells her that there’s no way the Thorns will make a trade just for her girlfriend, just for her happiness. But the thing is?

She’s got an ace up her sleeve. And she’s not afraid to use it. It’s a threat she won’t make lightly, but the time has come. The time when she finally sees the scales for what they say, can finally tell which side really, truly means the most to her.

No one was more surprised than Tobin that morning she woke alone, another long week with only phone calls and FaceTime to rely on, and realized that none of this was worth anything without Christen at her side.

Once the ball starts rolling, it gathers momentum quickly. And she’s only got a few days to work out the kinks in her plan. But, miracle of all miracles, St. Jude be praised, everything—everything—works out.

It’s been six weeks since she’s seen Christen, since she’s seen the woman she plans on spending the rest of her life with. But that doesn’t matter any more. There’s no need to keep track now that she’s standing here on Christen’s doorstep, a suitcase and a sunflower in hand.

The door opens, and Tobin feels like her heart is too full for her chest at just the sight of the woman she loves standing there, mouth open. “Toby?” Christen says, almost in disbelief, “how?”

Tobin just steps forward, setting down her bag and pulling Christen close. “Turns out they’ll do anything you want if you threaten to retire,” she whispers, kissing her gently before pulling back just to look at her, to drink her fill of the beautiful woman before her. And she smiles, unzipping her jacket so her Chris can see the gold jersey underneath, the number 17 in the middle of her chest.

“Surprise.”


	25. Bringing My Home to Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tobin surprises Christen for her birthday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt**   
>  _C’s birthday_

“Did you see?” Tobin grins as she comes into the bedroom, jumping onto the bed where her girlfriend is still waking up. “Last night, little man just couldn’t wait a few more hours to make his debut.”

And Christen looks at her sleepily. “What’s tha—oh! Oh, your sister!” she exclaims. “Did it happen? Did she have the baby?”

Tobin crawls up the bed to cuddle up to her girlfriend, kissing her shoulder as she spoons Christen from behind. “Here,” the older woman holds her phone so they can both see the pictures that her mom had sent. “I was really hoping he’d hold out until today. I thought it would be super cool for my godson and my partner to have the same birthday.” She nuzzles her nose against Christen’s soft skin, smiling as they swipe through the pictures and texts.

“You’re only saying that so it’s one less birthday you have to remember,” Christen laughed softly as she shifted, rolling over to face Tobin in their bed. “I know your sneaky ways,” she kisses her girlfriend sweetly.

“Oh?” Tobin teases as she slips a hand into her the pocket of her sleep pants, “you think you’re sneakier than me? You think you got me all figured out?” (They both know, of course, that Christen is, that she does.) She brings a small box up between them, eyes sparking with anticipation and excitement.

Christen just looks at her for a moment, smiling widely. “What’s this?” she asks, fingers covering Tobin’s over the small box.

“It’s one of your gifts, silly,” Tobin kisses her. “Of course, if you don’t want it …”

But Chris opens the box with a smile before looking up in confusion at her girlfriend. “A key?” A wry grin crosses her face. “Baby, I already have copies of all your keys …”

The older woman kisses her again. “True. But this key, it’s for an AirBnB, three floors up.”

“Here? In our building?” Christen is wholly confused now, fingers tight around the small metal key.

“Well,” Tobin leans in, covering her partner’s hands with her own, “Big Cody and your sisters needs some place to sleep while they visit.”

And the birthday girl’s eyes go wide, her mouth falls open. “Tobin,” she whispers, “you—“

“They made it before the borders closed. They’ve got about a week left in quarantine, but as soon as that’s up, we can see them. And I know it’s not perfect, if it was perfect you could see them right away but—”

But Christen doesn’t let her finish, pulling a Tobin close and kissing her deeply before she smiles against her girlfriend’s lips. “Between this, and our brand new god baby,” she whispers, her fingers stroking over Tobin’s firm jaw, “this is the best birthday I could have dreamed of.”


	26. Make It Mean Something

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe it’s time for a change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Preath**   
>  _what if I said i wanted to preath_

“What if I said I wanted to?” Tobin shrugged, reaching over to grab another piece of the vegan pizza with sweet potato crust that she had picked up for them on the way home after her individual training session at the stadium. She grinned as she took a big bite, watching her partner carefully.

But Christen put her hands on the table, clearly too distracted to eat at the moment. “I mean, Tobin, seriously?” The disbelief was clear in her voice. “You live and breathe this city, the Thorns. When you finally stopped couch-hopping between your teammates, half the National Team lost money because they bet you’d never actually settle down.”

Tobin waggled her eyebrows at the insinuation that she had ever, or would ever, settle down. But then something Christen had said sunk in. “Wait, there was a bet about me?”

The younger woman blushed deeply. She’d forgotten that unlike most of the team’s intra-personnel bets, Tobin had never found out. “There might have been a small wager once you came back from PSG,” she looked down at her hands, not meeting Tobin’s eyes.

“Oh, yeah?” Tobin grinned. “What did you bet?” And Christen looked up at her with a curious expression on her face.

“I knew the moment I first heard you talk about Portland that you’d finally found your home, Tobin,” Christen rests a hand over her partner’s on the table between them. “And my winnings paid for a few trips to visit you,” she smiled, wiping away a string of vegan cheese from Tobin’s lips.

“It’s why I don’t want you to do this just for me,” Chris continued, “going over to England, the contract they’re offering, it’s different than my time in Sweden. It’s an official, season-long deal.” She met Tobin’s eyes, “And you know that if you come with me, Marc will hold a grudge.” Her voice was soft and gentle, “He’ll find a way to take Portland away from you. Your home.”

Tobin just put down her slice of pizza, slipping off of the chair to kneel before her partner’s. “Portland only means something when you’re here with me, babe,” she kissed along Christen’s jaw. “So, let’s do it. Let’s go make Manchester mean something, yeah?”

And Christen smiles. “Yeah,” she whispered, and leaned in for a kiss.


	27. Not the Right Kind of Girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It hurts, to hear Tobin lose faith in love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt**   
>  _“I’m not the girl someone falls in love with”_

Christen looks at her—her teammate, her friend. She looks at Tobin and sees the pain there in the other woman’s eyes, hears the anguish in her voice.

“Tobin,” Chris moves to sit on the floor. She arranges herself across from the other woman, watching her. But where the midfielder is closed off, arms wrapped around her legs, clutching them close, almost withdrawing into herself, the younger woman sits, her whole body and being open before her friend. She sits sukhasana, arms a fluid line down her body where she lets them rest on her knees, breathing in and out at a steady, slow pace. “Tobin,” she whispers again, and waits until her friend looks up at her, meets her eyes.

And Christen watches as Tobin’s face crumples, as the tears she could hear threatening in her best friend’s voice take shape and begin to fall. “Oh, honey,” she moves closer, pulling the older woman into her lap, wrapping her arms around Tobin’s shoulder, pressing her cheek to the older woman’s head, “do you want to talk about it?”

It takes a moment for Tobin to speak, but when she does, Christen’s heart practically breaks to hear her friend’s pain spoken aloud.

“She didn’t love me,” Tobin whispers, and when Christen tries to encourage her, to tell her that couldn’t be true, the other woman shakes her head, stopping her. “She said as much. She liked me, enjoyed being with me, but—“

“But?” Christen asks softly as she combs soothingly through her friend’s hair.

Tobin swallows hard, “But she’d rather be with someone she can love.” She turns to look at Christen, eyes rimmed with red. “And I’m just not the girl someone falls in love with.”

She shrugs, and Christen’s heart breaks, even more than it has already, for the pain in her best friend’s eyes. “That’s not true, Toby,” Chris whispers against the older woman’s temple. “That’s not true at all.”

And Christen wishes she could be honest, wishes that she could tell the other woman exactly how wrong she is. But now isn’t the time. So instead, she just continues to hold her best friend, just letting Tobin cry against her chest.

The moment will come. It won’t be the wrong time forever.

But until then, until the time is right, Christen can do this. Can be there for her best friend, can reassure her of just how wrong the ex-girlfriend is. She can wait.

Tobin’s worth waiting for.


	28. Give Me Chances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This thing they’re doing? 
> 
> Tobin wants more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt**   
>  _t &c dont go yet, tobin_

The room is silent but for the sound of their breathing, chests rising and falling in sync as their bodies settled. The sweat, it slowly dries, cooling on their bare skin, as the light in the room fades, the dark of night growing stronger, deeper.

And it seems like some kind of holy place, the room. The bed. The warmth of the body next to her. The feel of her smooth, soft skin. But it’s a sanctuary with an expiration date, she knows this. The dark will eventually fade again into light, the night will become morning, the silence will be replaced by the usual chatter of their home away from home life. People in the halls, laughter, disagreements, mentoring, long distance arguments with partners who just don’t understand.

Life will resume soon enough, and this will be over until it happens again.

But while they last, these are her favorite moments. The moments she carries with her into the world outside this perfect existence, soft and slow, the feel of Christen’s hands on her skin not yet a memory, not yet a phantom. Real. Here. Pressed up against her own.

She’s not ready to let it go, this safe circle of Chris’s arms. This holy, sacred church, built on the rock of endless potential and possibilities.

“Don’t go yet,” Tobin whispers, reaching for Christen’s hand as the younger woman shifts to sit up, turning to grab her shirt from where it had landed on the floor. “Stay a little while? Just this once?”

Tobin’s fingers are soft against Christen’s skin, warm over the delicate map of veins there. She knows this body, the ways it moves, the ways it can be still. She knows the gentle rise and fall of Christen’s chest, the lines of her legs on the field, the way they fit so perfect entangled with her own. She knows the curve of Christen’s jaw against her palm, the press of her lips against her skin.

“Please?” she adds, and looks up to meet green eyes glowing in the dark. And Tobin feels the all-too-familiar gnawing in her belly as Christen watches her face, contemplates her plea. She knows, she knows, the answer will be no. That’s not what this is.

That’s not who they are.

They’re the escape, not the coming home. They’re the sparks, not the fire. They’re the tease, not the promise.

They were never even supposed to be this, Tobin knows. This wasn’t in either’s playbook. Except it had taken them both by surprise. A late night half-drunk Hail Mary against the lonely empty beds in their lives.

And hadn’t it been a surprise, how well their bodies fit together. Palm to palm and knee to knee in the dark, breasts and bellies and breathing in each other’s air.

This wasn’t supposed to be anything but now it’s become as close to everything as Tobin can stand. As close to something she can’t quite live without as she’s comfortable with.

So in the dark corner of the night, in another hotel room in another city after another game, she reaches out a hand.

She takes a chance, hope and hope and hope unfurling in her chest, sitting on her lungs, crowding over her tongue.

Tobin asks for a chance.

And Christen takes it.

“If I stay,” she whispers, “everything changes.”

Tobin’s breath catches in her throat, and she swallows hard.

“That’s what I’m hoping.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Where We Landed,” SMYL


	29. When I Look to the Sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grief and time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt  
> **   
>  _Preath; please, just listen to me, okay?_

When it happens, Christen is halfway across the world. Far enough that there’s no chance for last words, no chance for last goodbyes.

Her phone goes straight to voicemail, tucked away in her locker for the match, and sits. One hour, two. Until they come filing back in, jubilant over their first of the brand new year. _An omen,_ Kelley shouts from the showers, laughing as someone swats at her with a towel, _a goddamn sign._

Christen sees the notification after her own shower, the ribbon announcing the voicemail from Big Daddy, and smiles to herself. _A congratulations_ , she thinks, and feels the blush of pride bloom over her face. He’s always been her biggest fan, celebrating each and every goal like it was her first, her most spectacular, her most important. But there will be time to listen later, Christen knows, and so she slips the phone into the pocket of her sweats. There will be time after the celebrations, the usual post-match routine.

— — —

There will be time.

There will be time.

There will be time.

— — —

It’s Tyler’s call that catches her attention, somehow cutting through the jubilant din of friends and teammates at the bustling tapas restaurant where they’ve booked their team dinner that night. And it’s a moment she’ll never be able to forget, how her life changes in an instant, in the first sound of her sister’s voice across the ocean and the miles.

How she knows, even Tyler can say the words.

There are things she will never remember about those moments, the earth reversing its axis, but she’ll never forget the knowing, like the thread that had always held her so delicately to this life had suddenly and irrevocably snapped.

It turns out, time never mattered after all.

— — —

“Just listen to my voice, baby,” Tobin says softly, hand rubbing steady, firm circles into her back where she’s collapsed into herself, slowly falling to her knees on the well-waxed wood of the restaurant’s floor. And Christen tries, she does. She tries to hear the words, tries to hear the love, tries to hear anything but the rush of blood in her veins and the empty maw of loss that seems to have taken place of her heart within her chest.

“Breathe, baby,” Tobin continues, “I just need you to take a breath for me.” And the words slowly filter through the white noise, the world slowly slips back into her awareness. Becky on her phone—her phone, promising her sister that she’s okay. Megan talking with their teammates, the coordinator. Issuing orders—plane tickets, bags to be packed, rides to arrange.

And her knees hurt where she’d fallen to the floor, legs going out beneath her.

And her palms burn where she’d dug her nails into the flesh of them, little half-moon constellations of loss to guide her home.

And her heart aches, and she knows—she knows—theses are universes of pain she has only just begun to explore.

— — —

There’s Tobin’s body around her in the sleepless night, waiting for the morning, for the sun to rise and their journey to begin.

There’s Tobin’s hand over her own as their grief guides them over oceans and mountains plains, into the horizon that can never be more than a metaphor to loss for her again.

There’s Tobin’s breath against her cheek, steady and steadying, as they walk the sterile halls, home in a homeland that has no meaning any longer.

“Just listen to my voice, baby, I’ve got you,” Tobin whispers as they stand before the threshold between memory and what comes after, and Christen closes her eyes.

She listens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “When I Look to the Sky,” Train


	30. They Know God

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This kind of strength, Tobin never knew it existed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt**   
>  _Preath. How many is that now_

“How many is that now,” Christen gasps, falling back against the raised mattress. Her hair is damp with sweat, fat and salty beads of wet gathering at her temples until they are too large, to heavy to be contained any longer, breaking free to roll down her face, dripping down the side of her neck and soaking into the light fabric of the oversized shirt she’s wearing.

She feels Tobin squeezing her hand as the midwife checks the readout. “Just about two minutes apart now,” the tall woman says, giving them both an encouraging smile. “We’re almost there, mamas,” she continues, “we’re entering the transition stage—things are going to get intense from here on out, but you’re going to be holding this sweet baby very soon.”

Tobin looks down at her wife with a nervous smile. “You hear that,” she whispereds, pressing a kiss against Christen’s curls, “it’s about to get intense.” And she gives Chris a grin.

“Gonna _get_ intense,” the woman half-grunts, half-guffaws. “Because it’s been a picnic so far.” But she’s smiling, even exhausted, even stretched to the limits of her endurance. Because soon, very soon, the struggle to bring new life into this world will be over, and the pain and frustration and exhaustion of the last day will be a distant memory. Will be nothing compared to the heft of their child in her arms, the scent of sweet newborn skin, the sound of first breaths and first cries.

She feels it ramping up again, even before the monitor catches it, the next contraction. And she reaches for her wife’s hand, squeezing it tightly as she looks into Tobin’s eyes, lets Tobin ground her, steady her.

“Almost there, Chris,” Tobin whispers, brow to brow, and Christen nods.

Braces.

Breathes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “They Know God (But I Know You),” Peter & Kerry


	31. But I Know You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (A continuation of “They Know God.”)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt**   
>  _whichever pairing : why do you kick so much in your sleep? are you constantly dreaming about soccer?_

Tobin stands over the bassinet that’s taken up a place of prominence next to their bed. He’s asleep, her son, her sweet little boy. He’s fast asleep after another day of growing and learning and filling her heart with so much joy. And she knows she could back out slowly from the room, let him dream his infant dreams in peace while she joins her wife on the couch, maybe a glass of wine to celebrate a day that has only just taken on any meaning for her.

But she can’t. She can’t stop looking at him, watching him, committing every little moment to memory. She’s always known that beauty existed in this world they live in, the artist she strives to be looks for it everywhere, in every corner of every day.

But Tobin has never known beauty like this. The curve of his cheek, so soft. The perfect button nose, the deep green eyes—Christen in miniature. The shock of hair, so dark and fine between her fingertips. He’s the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen.

And he’s her son.

Her son.

Maybe they don’t share blood, maybe there’s nothing in his DNA to tie them together. But there is something far more powerful between them, this boy and her. There’s love, pure and simple and magic.

“Hey,” she hears from the doorway behind her, “you were supposed to be putting someone to bed and coming back out.” But there’s no ire in Christen’s voice, just love and understanding. They’re both so in love, so enraptured by this tiny boy.

“Got distracted,” Tobin hums softly, feeling her wife’s arms encircle her from behind. “Watching him dream.”

And she smiles, looking down again. Those little feet, the tiniest socks she’s ever seen in her whole life. “Always moving, always kicking,” Tobin whispers, only just barely holding back the urge to run a finger along the little soles, “You dreaming about soccer there, little one?”

Chris chuckles softly against her back, and she feels the younger woman press a kiss against her shoulder. “Baby Tobinho,” she teases, “he gets those fancy moves from his mama.” And Tobin can’t help but feel her heart race at her wife’s words, the affirmation that she is this little boy’s mother, that blood and bone have nothing on the power of her love for him, for this little family just starting out.

“Have I said thank you yet today?” Tobin whispers as she turns, tearing her eyes away from their son for the only acceptable substitute, her wife. “For bringing him into the world? For giving us such a perfect little boy?”

And Christen smiles up at her, kissing her jaw. “Only just a few hundred times so far,” she grins, taking Tobin’s hand in her own.

“Behind schedule then,” Tobin laughs softly, and takes a moment just to breath in this moment, the quiet peace of their son asleep beside their bed, her wife in her arms.

Chris just shakes her head in amusement, tugging Tobin toward the door, the hallway and the living room behind. “Come, Toby,” she entices, a familiar smile blooming over her face, “I haven’t given you my present yet.”

But Tobin pulls her close again, breathing in the scent of her, heart and home in one, pressing a kiss to her brow. “Baby,” she whispers softly, shifting so they can watch over their son asleep before them again, “you’ve already given me the whole world.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “They Know God (But I Know You)”, Peter and Kerry

**Author's Note:**

> Some fic was originally posted as individual pieces. Sorry for the reposts.


End file.
